


In Times of Hurt, You Made Everything Better

by ThottyBarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is horny, Bucky is sleepy, Captain America: The First Avenger, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky shower, Top Steve Rogers, bucky is emotional, kind of proposal, oh my god there was only one bed, shower, steve is patient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:31:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThottyBarnes/pseuds/ThottyBarnes
Summary: In which Steve has a world of patience for his sleepy, horny, emotional boyfriend.Takes place during WWII





	In Times of Hurt, You Made Everything Better

**Author's Note:**

> this was an entirely self-indulgent fic for mental health reasons. sue me.

Sometime in October 1943  
___________________________

 

It was raining in Paris, France today. The sleeting cold storm pressed against the windows of the cabinet the Howling Commandos had found, and the wind made the house cry out in a quiet whine. Inside, however, the fireplace roared and the laughter flowed. The golden light of the flames bathed all seven men in a warm orange light, and the French booze they had been given (from the seized country town they had liberated earlier that day) flowed. They were huddled close together, seeking physical warmth and comfort from each other, but two men were pulled even closer. 

Bucky Barnes was curled into Steve Rogers side with a tumbler of whiskey curled into his chest and his face buried into the meaty neck of his Steve. Steve’s hand pressed into his side, rubbing his ribs through the green military issue t-shirt he was wearing for the third day in a row. 

“Buck,” Steve whispered once the rest of the men were in heady fogs of sleep and drunk. His lips brushed against his forehead and his fingers tapped against his shoulder. 

“Mmm.” Bucky hummed, almost forgetting that he had a glass half full of amber liquid in his hand as he pressed himself closer to Steve. Bucky slept any chance he got. Steve didn’t sleep that much anymore.

“Let’s go get ready for bed, yeah? I remember seein’ a master somewhere upstairs. Running water in the bathroom an’ everything.” He hummed, shaking his own shoulder and ridding himself of Bucky’s weight on him. Bucky had no time to feel any sort of sadness over the loss of contact, as Steve had grabbed the glass from his hand and replaced it with his own, larger and paler one. 

“‘M comfy here, Stevie.” The older boy grumbled, head lolling to land against the back of the couch. He heard Steve let out a breath through his nose— Bucky couldn’t tell if it was one of annoyance or fondness, but he found he really couldn’t care less right now. The fire was so warm and the shitty autumn weather had chilled him to his bones these past few weeks. 

“You’ll be comfier after we get you rid of all that grease you’ve been collecting and under a few blankets.” He hummed, pulling Bucky with more force and supported him as he stumbled to his combat-boot clad feet. 

“You’ll be there with me?” Bucky asked, his own voice small and his gaze sleepy as he looked through his lashes and up at Steve. Steve sucked in a breath, never getting over the way that Bucky himself was all consuming. He didn’t need a fire when Bucky was the way he was. 

“Always, Buck. Come on.” He mumbled, tugging him out of the living room. Steve would wait for Bucky to fall asleep in his arms before he came back downstairs to put out the fire. 

The trek up the stairs was slow, but Steve had the world of patience as he pulled his best guy down the hall and into the bathroom adjacent from the master. 

“Get undressed, Buck. I’ll get the bed ready, yeah?” He asked, turning to go and give Bucky the privacy he had been deprived of. Instead, he was caught by the wrist, and a sleepy, needy Bucky. 

“I don’t think I can get undressed. I might actually fall asleep on the floor if you leave me.” Through the exhaustion in Bucky’s voice, there was a hint of teasing. Steve turned to give him a stern, flushed look before shaking his head and lifting Bucky onto the sink counter. 

“Strong,” Bucky mumbled, letting his head flop against Steves' shoulder. “Could take care’a me.”

“You gonna be my pretty little housewife after this, handsome?” Steve played along, pulling away (Bucky whined) and falling to his knees in front of him. Bucky didn’t react the same way he always did— with a wolffish grin and greedy hands, frankly, Steve didn’t blame him. The energy either of them would need for sex at this moment was too far gone— left somewhere far back in the countryside. 

Bucky wrinkled his nose. “Househusband. I’ll take care of the kids and make sure the house is clean for when you come home from work.”

Steve tried his best to not let his stomach turn too much at the thought of having any sort of family with Bucky Barnes. He unlaced his boots, untying the green bands and then unlacing the laces, pulling them off in a way that made Bucky moan quietly as the arches of his feet stretched pleasantly. Steve busied himself with taking off his thick wool socks, then the black compression socks underneath those ones. 

“You smell, has anyone ever told you that?” Steve joked with an adorably wrinkled nose as he stood, holding Bucky’s hips in his hands and resting his forehead against his guys. Bucky hummed and rubbed the bridge of his nose against Steves and sighed. 

“You. Almost every day. Even when I smell good.” He smiled lazily and quickly pressed his lips to Steve’s. Steve didn’t even have the chance to respond before Bucky pushed himself from the counter and unbuckled Steves belt, pulling it from the loops and letting it fall with a clang to the floor. They were both quiet, listening carefully for any movement downstairs. When they heard only silence and Jim’s snores, Steve’s cargo pants followed soon after, and then, very suddenly, Bucky was shirtless in front of him. 

Steve took a second to appreciate what was his. The muscles were defined, and his ribs poked out a little too much due to the lack of consistent meals any of the guys had gotten. 'I’ll make sure he gets food when we go home,' Steve thought absently as he leaned forward to kiss Bucky’s defined collarbones. The bathroom was silent except for the men's breathing, and Steve wanted to stay here forever. He wanted to take all the time with Bucky. 

The rest of their clothes followed soon after, landing in haphazard piles that would make both boys groan in frustration in the morning. Right now, they were just too tired to care. 

Steve moved to lean into the tub, and only took a few moments to try to figure out what taps were which. When he figured it out, Steve let the rusty water run before he pulled the faucet so the water rushed from the shower head, and waited for the water to run hot before he turned and turned to Bucky. He was leaning against the bathroom door, his head leaned back against the door and watching Steve with heavy-lidded eyes. There was a tired, drunk, lazy smile on his face, and his hips were pushed forward, half-hard cock waking up to the sight of Steve’s own, perfect body. Steve twitched, and he had to physically shake is head from the lusty cloud that threatened to press against his brain. It would have worked, too, if it weren't for the exhaustive ache that seeped into Steve's bones.

“Come on, handsome. Let’s get you scrubbed.”

“Get me doin’ somethin’ alright.” Bucky grinned, pushing off of the wall and wrapping two warm arms around Steve’s waist. He rested himself into him and brushed his nose against the vein in Steve’s neck. 

“We can do stuff if you’re still awake after the shower, yeah?” Steve said, voice hard but eyes gentle and cheeks red. Bucky leaned forward and kissed both of them before slotting his lips between Steves and a slow, lazy kiss. Steve didn’t mind the fact that it was sloppy— they hadn’t yet come out completely to the rest of the guys and therefore, tried their best to keep it as Pal-Like as possible. Sure, Steve thought that they all had some sort of inkling, but until both him or Bucky were comfortable telling them, or until one of them (Dum Dum, probably) confronted it about them, it would be the worlds best-kept secret. 

“C’mon toots,” Bucky said. “Wanna see you all sudsy and wet like those dames in the Playboy magazines.”

And so, Steve followed Bucky into the shower and pressed himself in close. Steve liked it here— the steam from the hot water (that was still running, thank God) made the room comfortably stuffy, and Bucky was everywhere. His lips were pressed against Steve shoulders and neck and nose and lips and his hands (covered in soap, but still his hands) massaged scent and oil and love into Steve’s muscles. The fighting seemed far away in this stand up shower. The dirt and grime and blood was scrubbed off both of the men's bodies, and if Steve tried really hard to drown out the constant echo of gunfire, he could picture both of them doing this exact thing five years down the road int heir own Brooklyn Brownstone— one of those apartments that his Ma could afford on a nurses salary int he twenties. 

Bucky’s hands stopped massaging him soon after, but his fingertips still dug into Steve’s thighs, keeping him anchored to him and pressing himself close. Steve swore he could feel Bucky against his thigh (mostly because he, himself, was hard), but he felt no world-ending sexual tension. There was no feeling of urgent-ness, no feeling of doom if Bucky wasn’t under him, crying and whimpering just the way Steve liked. 

Hell, Steve was sure that Bucky was actually asleep against him. 

“Buck.” Steve said, tapping his fingers twice again his butt cheek. Bucky only groaned and wrapped his arms around Steve once more, nuzzling into his neck deeper and sighing. 

“How 'bout we go to bed, yeah?” He whispered, turning around and turning off the taps. The low-pressure shower ceased and Bucky let out a little whine from his throat. 

“’S too cold.” He complained, allowing Steve to help him over the lip of the tub. Steve wrapped a towel around his waist and then one around Steves, gathering their clothes under one arm and coaxing Bucky to the master suite with the other. 

It wasn’t much of a master suite, to begin with. On single queen bed in a room which should not have had a single queen in it. One bedside table with one lamp on it. There was dust settled over almost everything, and like the rest of the house when the Howlies first got there, looked as if it had been packed and fled in a rush. 

But, it was a bed with blankets and it was all Steve could ask for. 

Once they were both rubbed dry, Steve threw the clothes down by the door (too tired) and pulled the blankets back. He climbed in first and waited with open arms for Bucky to climb in after him. 

Bucky crawled onto the bed, and sat back on his heels, looking rather nervous and wide awake. 

“Is everything okay, Buck? I can— we can put on clothes if you wa—“

“No!” Bucky almost shouted, his hands rushing forward to be ready for any movement Steve would have. Steve leaned back against the headboard and reached to grab one of Bucky’s hands. He looked so pretty like this, Steve thought. Bucky was clean and nervous and he was still half hard— it was a really nice sight if Steve was to be quite honest. 

“I wanna— here.” Bucky’s hands pulled away from Steve’s and flew to his dog tags, pulling them over his head and holding them out to Steve. Steve not knowing what he was trying to say, made no movement. 

“What’re you?” Steve asked, his voice suddenly sounding very hoarse and very far away. 

“Wear them. Please. I wanna— fuck, Steve. Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Bucky smiled. Steve had this way of being able to make Bucky feel like he was asking a pretty dame out for the first time with every fucking glance. 

“I wanna marry you. When we get back. I can’t go another fucking day without you being my guy forever, I’ll die. Peg can do it— marry us, and the Howlies will be there. Ma, and Pa and Becks. I wanna belong to you, and I can’t get a ring over here without taking it from someone, so here.” Bucky crawled forward and straddled Steve. Steve’s eyes were huge and wet and he held his breath when Bucky put the hair around his neck. Steve, without even thinking twice, pulled his own from his neck and reciprocated the action. 

“I’m yours too, then. Always, yours. Until the end of—“

“The line.” Bucky finished, tears already finding their own trails across his tanned skin. Steve’s hands fell to Bucky’s hips after pulling the blanket up around Bucky’s shoulders, knowing that his boy— fiancé had always hated having a cold back. Bucky’s hand cupped Steve (impressive, in Bucky’s opinion) jaw and crashed his lips to Steve’s. Steve had always, always tasted like apple juice and peach— even now he did (rations were so low they had only been able to eat a fourth of a spam container each), and while he also tasted like blood and bad breath, the more Bucky licked into his mouth, the more the taste of summer came back. 

Steve’s grip was so soft, Bucky wanted to cry. His hands had become even rougher in war— the callouses from gun triggers and the rough plastic of grenades had made them appear, but Steve was always, always so fucking gentle. Steve pulled away first, tears welling in the corners of his eyes like he was some sort of cartoon character. He grabbed his doglegs which were now resting over Bucky’s heart and kissed them, never breaking eye contact, to which Bucky wiggled in his lap like a pouty, horny, sobbing dog. 

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve whispered against his mouth as Bucky pulled away, smiling and crying and wiping snot from his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Can we go to bed now?” Bucky cried, a smile still on his face. Happy tears. Sad tears. Scared tears. Tired tears. Mostly happy, though. 

“Absolutely, Sugar.” Steve said, shimmying down the bed with Bucky still on top of him. His cock sprang to attention at the action, but damn, Steve Rogers was too fucking tired and emotional to put his dick into anything right now. 

“‘M gonna have my way with you when we go home to London, though.” He mumbled low in Bucky’s ear. 

Bucky Barnes had already fallen asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter!  
> https://twitter.com/thottybarnes  
> @thottybarnes


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